


Won’t you feel warm with me?

by hazyamethyst



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets, Milex - Fandom
Genre: But it ends on a high note, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, a bit of a bittersweet thing, and it's mostly cute tbh, the focus is on the feelings, there's an implication of a terminal illness but it's vague, there's angst, there's fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 22:18:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7482060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazyamethyst/pseuds/hazyamethyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pack after pack he throws away empty, trying to convince himself maybe it’s the smoke, lodging in his lungs, lazy. It has to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Won’t you feel warm with me?

**Author's Note:**

> Walked into find you sitting in your kitchen, softly singing, "Someone carry me away."

“Go on,”

Miles reached out for the accordion-shaped piece of paper Alex was holding out to him, grinning. His little white teeth were as shiny as mother-of –pearl beads, perfectly even, and they seemed to demand Miles’ undivided attention even more so than usual. He’d never liked his own, a bit crooked and long as they were, and now he recalls just how many of his pick-up lines involved Alex’s perfect smile when they’d first started going out together. Alex would deem it a weird obsession as time passed and Miles persisted on his praise. But he would blush too, and do his best to keep a straight face when Miles told him jokes and funny anecdotes. It was all a bit in vain though, as Miles last resort was tickling the boy and even in his most stoic days young Alex wouldn’t resist that. Nowadays he could, perhaps. That smile, though, was the same and Miles found some much needed solace in the fond thought.

Because he can’t shake the fear away, it seems, even with the pills and the stress balls and cigarettes. Pack after pack he throws away empty, trying to convince himself maybe it’s the smoke, lodging in his lungs, lazy. It has to be. He blames it for the sombre perspective on life he’s adopted, tries to picture that soft gray that sticks to your fingertips when you read newspapers doing the same to his bloodstream.  On his more lucid days maybe he would tell himself it was normal, to be a bit off and away. It wasn’t death which troubled him per se but life’s slow, eerily mechanical seeping away. It was all too visible and predictable for something so supposedly untouchable. For Alex, though, he tried not to dwell too much on such thoughts. He’d had the heart to remember a handful of nice, albeit cliché, quotes out of self-help books he won’t ever finish reading to tell himself on a daily basis and keep things _going_. The list was coming to an end and that implied time was catching up with them.

With Alex, actually. With that skinny, loose-limbed figure that was now sitting beside him on his own favourite park bench. The one made entirely of bronze and which was formerly part of a bigger statue. An antique relic of sorts that was now supposed to lay alone for people to admire and take pictures of.  


_“A true baroque piece, oh god!”_  


Alex’s voice is crisp and clear as it plays on loop in his brain. He was beaming beside Miles for a good ten seconds before sprinting off with as much excitement as a kid chases after the ice cream trunk on summer.

Miles is not sure he appreciated his energetic attitude enough. Even when it meant sweet-talking officers for their overlooking the actions of his beloved little vandal, it was so much better.  Nowadays, he didn’t even have to bother. They just let him get away with it all.

Out of pity, everyone just let Alex do whatever he wanted these days.

“Starer till the end, huh?” Alex cocked an eyebrow but kept his gaze fixed on the ground.

A soft cracking sound cut sharp through the morning silence and Miles wished, for the millionth time this year, life came with a _pause_ button. Yes, one he could press whenever he fancied to memorise in detail all these sacred little moments by his lover’s side. Alex was crushing down a twig, grinding his right foot over it the way he steps on cigarette butts or attempts to dance on stage. Sunrise was due to take place soon, officially announcing the beginning of a new day and so putting an end to those nocturnal deliriums and dreams Miles found himself having way too often. Bright sunlight brought along, in a nutshell, everything Miles currently despised: reason and reality. He’d much prefer a yearlong night, with the conceding moon as an understanding friend that gave him hope.

It was all to hold on to now. Hope.  
 _ ~~  
~~_ “I used to love it, you know. Your eyes, restless, sizing me up over and over again when you thought I wouldn’t notice. It made me feel confident about me looks. And a bit jealous too, maybe. When I wasn’t the one and only receiver of your attention, that is.” Alex sighed and sagged back, whipping his head up and buttoning his coat so that his neck wasn’t too exposed to the cold.

“Now, though…I wish you just looked away already. I’m ashamed of what I see in the mirror, lakes, your fuckin’ sunglasses.” Alex rubbed the heels of his palms on his eyes, just this side of vicious. “Every reflection is equally awful, Mi. I’m not me anymore.”

Miles breathed out a sigh, unsure of what to say.

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Oh but you see it, too. How couldn’t you? Last time I checked you were the pragmatic, alex-doing-acid-is-a-stupid-idea, sensible one. M’ just saying the obvious here, y’know.”  
  
“I…”  
  
_  
“I can always be a model if this doesn’t pan out, eh? Getting in me undies, maybe Zach would like to bang me for some photo sessions, huh? What do you think, Miles?”_

_“You? Too much of a gnome, sadly. Ouch! Just kidding. You’ve already made yourself a name in the underground scene, baby. I wouldn’t worry. Like, at all.”_

_“And…?”_

_“You’re very pretty.”_

_“And?!”_

_“Mine. I’m not sharing ye.”_

The fierce cold wind blowing from all around them had, far from turning Alex even paler, coloured his cheeks a soft pink and messed with his wig a great deal. Miles wanted to fix it properly and then shower Alex with kisses but he risked making the boy even more self-aware of his image and that would never do. Alex was insecure enough already, and Miles feared he was running out of ways of showing him just how much he was loved.   

Stifling a very inopportune yawn, he continued. “I’ll tell you what I know. You’re the same flirty tease, the same upbeat kid that got giddy with a glass of bear and sat on my lap every chance he got because ‘ _it’s comfy, Mi’_ and you couldn’t care less what everyone thought. The same nerd that stayed up late reading English dictionaries and definitely the same awful sore loser that’s always making up new rules for every single game and-”

“So I’ve basically never grown up in your mind, eh? How cute, missing me acne, aren’t ya?”

Alex turned to face Miles again, though the winner grin was missing this time. There was something sullen about Miles’s eyes, something that made the older boy think those nights spent at cheap, crappy motels where the flickering bulbs always looked about to give out. The tears he was holding back helped them shine but it was still nowhere near the hazel color he loved so much.  Alex knew some things were deliberately being left unspoken even though they should be talked about at this point. He was certain Miles was feeling the exact same weight he himself was carrying deep in his chest. 

“Yeah. You are.”

“What I mean…” Miles looked away and swallowed, acknowledging for the first time that day those bitter lumps clogging up his throat. He tried searching for the right words in his brain.  
  


_“Touché”_

_“Touché, love!”_

_“I was first, don’t you fucking dare say otherwise, Mi.”_

_“It’s a tie.”_

_“Pfffft, sure. Tie my ass, you lost!”_

_“Love it when you get kinky angry.”_

_“You never change, do you?”_

_“And you do?”_

__  
  
It took him a while to find them.

“What I mean is your essence  prevails, through every little change of accent, residence, shape and _health_. You are the same little human I feel in love with, Alex. No matter how many black leather jackets you wrap yourself in.”

“Or how many times I vomit blood a day?” Alex let a bitter laugh out. Grimacing, he skimmed his hands over his stomach and clutched it, bending over on reflex. He hated making a worrying mess out of Miles and so he did his best to save the cries of pain and general displays of wretchedness for the shower, his only true alone time. He’d failed now, however, and Miles’ heartbeat raced in anticipation as his hands hurried to search for the emergency plastic bag tucked safely away in the backpack’s front pocket. “Here love, don’t worry. If you have to…”

“Settle.” Alex waved his hand, signalling Miles to put the ominous bag away “I’m okay. Read the next item, will you?”  Alex spoke calmly, stifling a cough with his fist and forcing himself to sit up.

Miles pulled the zipper up slowly and bit his quivering lip.

“Please? Time’s running.”

“Sorry,”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s…okay, yeah, o- _oh_ ”

Miles unfolded the note and read it. He breathed, glanced at Alex, and then read it again. He saw words scribbled fast in messy cursive and then he saw Alex’s eyes, dark and expecting and unsure.

Why, of all people, him?

Why? Why? Why? The pulsing thoughts soon moulded themselves into a loud chant as his body was slowly overtook by a series of shivers the cold weather could never trigger. Shivers of pure dread at everything those words conveyed, at everything that he still could possibly find further up in that list and especially at that damned future that seemed in all too awful a hurry to arrive.

 

  1. _Let me feel that love you sing in verses one last time: kiss me like you mean it, please.  
  
_



“If you’re not disgusted, of course. I understand if you are. I am.” Alex moved closer as he spoke on. With fingers mostly senseless he traced Miles profile up and down, cupping his chin and ruffling his hair as he went. He felt horribly selfish as he watched Miles shook his head and close his eyes in defeat. Heavy tears ran down his scrunched-up face and, a few laboured breaths after, he was whimpering full-voice and whispering _no, no, no._

Those throaty helpless cries pulled hard at Alex’s heartstrings and he felt a sharp sting. It a was warmth coming from somewhere deep inside him, setting his blood on fire and this in turn lighting up his senses as it went. Making the fog in his mind clear, the fear wrapped up his spine dissolve, the knots in his stomach loose. In the span of a few minutes, it seemed, he was burning up but not in fury. He couldn’t remember if this was being alive or in love, or both, but he was determined to put that rush of power to good use. Anything it takes to pull Miles out of that silent misery that had been consuming him for months, killing off his carefree, witty self. Alex had become very used to feeling an infectious burden: babied, carried around and the ultimate receiver of pitiful stares and half-smiles. It grated on his temper, that much is true, but he hadn’t so far been able to truly tune in to how much it got to Miles. How his resolution about giving up wasn’t making anything easier or better. How the certainty he thought would be liberating had only turned into a hopelessness that left no space for even the tiniest of happiness. This wasn’t the way he wanted Miles to remember him by.

Anger and bitterness. Red splotches on the sheets, the bathroom tiles, the pastel rugs. Silence. Petty lists. Unfinished sentences. Fragility and lightness. Sleepy grunts for answers.  Vacuous stares.   

“I so miss kissing you,” Miles caught Alex lingering hand and squeezed it against his cheek, the soft scrape of beard bringing Alex back to the present.

“Mi, I’m being selfish but you don’t get to miss, yeah? Not yet.”

And so Alex slipped into an only half-forgotten routine. He invaded Miles’ personal space slowly and with a clear purpose in mind. Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments and then Miles’ slip closed, welcoming the steading hand on his nape and the soft words of conviction that poured out of Alex’s mouth in waves before he finally stole his breath away. And it was sweet, that’s what surprised Miles the most. He didn’t think there was much room left in his body for pure and positive emotions but every brush of Alex’s lips on his triggered a wave of blinding calmness and love that seemed to hold some secret promise of their own. The fond feelings took Alex by surprise, too, and soon he was flooding in them as he deepened the kiss and had a taste of sweet caramel cappuccino, toast and strawberry jam, the breakfast Miles had eaten for both. Alex felt something akin to hunger, a soft low grumble in his stomach that made him blush and pull back a fraction to focus on the strange sensation.

Too spellbound to notice much, Miles pulled the skinny boy gently onto his lap, letting him accommodate his side against his chest and tuck his head comfortably in, against the cold, the unwanted stares and the intrusive thoughts. There was a melody floating there somewhere around them, perfectly at reach, a certain mood that had smoothly morphed into a muse eager to be snatched and materialized on paper and ink .They both acknowledged it, naturally, and Miles leaned in to whisper something that made Alex wiggle and pout and when he stole a handful of pecks from the smaller man Miles knew he’d found the key to manage this last stretch.

Not a moment too soon, though. He wasn’t surprised in the least when, a few hours later, he peeked at the rigged paper and skimmed to read the once feared top before putting the thing away in a haste, as if it’d burnt him. Alex had always been four steps ahead of him and he wasn’t going to stop now, of course. Miles smiled sadly, and let out a heavy breath as he plopped back down on the bed again, next to his napping husband. While it’s true that their connection had always been unusually strong, the weaker Alex got, the more it seemed to ratchet up its intensity to compensate. It was a coping mechanism he knew, for both of them. Proximity, both physical and mental, had always made things better.

_“We’re a team as it is, eh? Buy me two more margaritas and I’ll kiss you. Three and I’ll keep you awake, you flirty tease. But… if you buy me four, I’ll marry you and let you do all of the above. And more. Until I’m like eighty...two. Eighty two, yeah. I’ll divorce you if you get mellow at fifteh, though. You’ve been warned.”_

_“All I’m buying you is water…you should see your pupils! Really outdid yourself though, proposing in a parking lot, over cigarettes. Somehow very you, Al.”_

_“Mmm, no. I think it’s your call, Mi. And mind you, I’m very very thirsty. It’d be a pity for someone else to beat you to it.”_

_“Wait- Alex!”_

_“I’ll see you inside! Or… not?”_

With watery eyes, Miles reached for Alex’s hand and kissed the gold band that rested there wrapped around ring finger, cool and shiny. Intertwining their hands easily, he praised aloud the wise in Alex’s written word and vowed to always cherish it. The long, abstract sentences and the succinct, coldly calculated words. The dry sense of humour and the lousy jokes, too. Sidling up behind him, Miles dropped another kiss to Alex’s crown and softly coaxed the skittish boy into being cuddled as he made up plans to go out after their visit to the hospital. Or stay in if he didn’t feel like it. Pizza and karaoke, or maybe pasta and movies. Slow-dancing, and weed.

  1. _Life is a game until it’s over. Play with me?_



**Author's Note:**

> The title and the note^^ are actually lyrics from ["Twelve"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1qbk-xo6Zqs) a (very lovely) song by La Dispute.
> 
> Thank you for reading, feedback is much appreciated :)


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